


I’m letting of what I once believed (so goodbye agony)

by DeathLife97



Series: don’t let go (it’s what makes you real) [3]
Category: Marvel 3490, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Canon, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton-centric, Female Tony Stark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathLife97/pseuds/DeathLife97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1993, a teenage archer named Clint Barton was captured by a government organization, given a second chance at life. That doesn’t mean his life is any easier, especially with Phil Coulson involved...</p><p>Title inspired by <a href="http://earth-3490-mcu.tumblr.com/post/114467498744/my-headcanon-for-phil-clints-song-inspired-the">"Goodbye Agony" by Black Veil Brides</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’m letting of what I once believed (so goodbye agony)

**Author's Note:**

> Divider found [here](http://www.spmlandscape.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/linebreak.png).

Clint Barton was seventeen years old when he’s picked up by SHIELD. Though, in his defense, he never realized that a top-secret government agency was on his ass. Clint had told Ringmaster to be more careful, but _no_ , no one listened to the kid. Clint didn’t even want to join the circus, desperate as he was. Even living on the streets after his brother Barney was taken from him (by a freakin’ car accident no less), he still had some semblance of a conscience.

Sure, there was stealing food and water, but never from the same place in a week. Clint knows the saying “no honor among thieves”, but most thieves do it because, a. they _want_ to, or b. because they _had_ to or die. And he still remembers his promise to Barney. But that doesn’t mean he enjoys it. He wants to emphasize that point and make it as clear as day. Clint may be a bullshitter at times (most of the time), but he knows who he is. What he didn’t expect was that who he was would attract anyone’s attention than as part of the freak show.

Yet he’s still surprised when he’s pulled away from the others by a man in a suit. He has light brown hair (perfectly combed) and is wearing sunglasses (since its dusk, probably to hide his eyes). “Come with me,” the man says, his voice soothing Clint in a way he hadn’t ever had since his mother. It bothers Clint that a total stranger has that effect in him so quickly. He’s ushered into the back of a black van, Mr. Suit and Tie removing his glasses as soon as they were seated across from each other. _Definitely another government chronie_ , Clint thought as he assessed the man sitting across from him: cheap suit, tie perfect, nails manicured, eyes blank—

 _Wait_. Not blank, but warm, grey eyes stared at him. Not at him, Clint realized with a nervous gulp, but _through_ him. Unfortunately for him, his body thought it would be a perfect time to blush like a schoolgirl, which made him blush even more. S &T smiled a little at Clint, probably in order to relax him. “My name is Phil Coulson. I’m with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. We’ve been keeping tabs on you for a while, Mr. Barton.”

Clint snorts. “I hope you guys are planning on shortening that, ‘cause that’s quite a mouthful.”

Coulson continues to smile lightly. “We’re working on it,” he reassures Clint, who realizes that, under all that professionalism, there’s some humor there. _Wonder what it’ll take to get the stick out of his ass_ , Clint thought, _Maybe I could—_ “Mr. Barton?”

Clint blinks himself out of his musings before shoving the thought away. He couldn’t afford to think like that. Thinking like that would only get him killed. “Sorry, what was that?”

Coulson gave him a look that clearly said he didn’t believe him, but fortunately let it slide, repeating himself. “I said, I was hoping that if you’re looking for a fresh start, you would find it with us.”

 _With me_ , Clint’s brain replaces unhelpfully. He raises an eyebrow at Coulson. “Really? Strategic Homegame wants someone like me in its ranks?”

Coulson stares at Clint. “Strategic _Homeland_ , Mr. Barton. Your archery skills are the best that anyone has seen in a very long time. Our... organization would like to use you—”

“—as a weapon,” Clint finishes smoothly. “Look, as kind as that offer is, I don’t need any affiliation with Uncle Sam coming back to bite me in the ass later.”

“I can assure you, Mr. Barton, working with us will be more beneficial than harmful.”

“How so?” Clint counters spitefully. “I could get killed because of you people. How is that any better than starving on the streets, watching the only family you have left die in front of you?! How the _hell_ is that any better?!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Clint wanted to take them back. But his words seemed to have some affect on Coulson, who blinked at him in surprise. Clint snorted internally. _Guess you weren’t expecting that, tough guy_. What _Clint_ wasn’t expecting, though, was for him to come and sit next to Clint and offer him a consoling pat on the back. “I’m sorry for your loss, Clint,” he said, sincerity bleeding from every word. Clint was surprised at his reaction to the touch. He’d never let anyone touch him except Mom and Barney. And yet, here he was, letting himself come into contact with a stranger. Clint sighed, knowing he’d someday regret this decision.

“Where do I sign up?”

Clint was twenty-five when he realized he was in love with Phil. In hindsight, when he started calling Coulson _Phil_ should’ve been the tipoff that something had changed in his relationship with his handler. Well, not the relationship itself but his view on Phil. Clint couldn’t believe that he’d once thought that Phil was just some “government chronie”. He was way more than that, than what others saw in public. When it was just Phil and Clint (and occasionally Nat), he seemed to be able to relax in a way that he never did around others.

Now that he thought about it, that should’ve been the second sign that he was becoming like a lovesick-teenager. Clint sighed as he felt a migraine coming on and began to rub his temples. Suddenly two hands were on his shoulders massaging away some of the tension held there. “Hey, Nat,” Clint mumbled dejectedly at his best friend (besides Phil, obviously).

Natasha Romanov, ex-assassin and former USSR spy, one of the best agents SHIELD has ever had the pleasure of having, hums at the tone of Clint’s voice as she works her hands deeper into the knots embedded in Clint’s shoulders. “What’s wrong, моя маленькая ястреб?”

Clint fights the urge to groan as he leans back into Natasha, his body coming to rest in between her now spread legs. Their relationship was one of comfort and sibling-like affection. He knows that if Barney had lived, he and Natasha would be the closest of allies. He also knows what Barney would’ve told him to do about Phil. But since he wasn’t here, he could only rely on Natasha for advice. The irony of it all is that, had this not been about Phil, Clint would’ve gone to _him_. “What do I do, Nat?” Clint asks, resting his head against Nat’s shoulders, fully relaxing into the spy.

Natasha hums again. “This is your life, Clint,” she replies after a few minutes of silence, “you and only you can decide what to do with it. After a lifetime of being told what to do, make the decision with that you feel is right. Don’t let anybody tell you how to love. The only thing holding you back is yourself.” She kisses the patch of skin between his neck and collarbone before getting up and going to her quarters ( _no_ _doubt_ , thought Clint), leaving Clint to figure things out by himself.

About an hour and a half later, Clint had made up his mind: he wouldn’t risk it with Phil. Not when there was too much to lose if Phil turned away from him. Even though there was a part of him that argued that Phil would never cast him aside, his past came back to say that he’s lost everyone he’s ever loved and Clint shouldn’t put Phil in that kind of danger (Nat’s the only exception because she can kill _anything_ ). Even when he goes to bed ten minutes later, his heart and mind are still at war with each other.

Clint’s thirty-two when he first meets Toni Stark. At first she’s just as bad as the media’s portrayed her, but Phil had warned him not to write her off at first glance. But Clint’s doubts kept coming and coming, after Stark Expo, after Monte Carlo. But then he’d realized she was dying by the same thing that was keeping her alive, after he saw her push away the people she loved most so they wouldn’t grieve as much when she was gone, and that’s when he decided never to doubt Phil again (not that he really has, but still, its the thought that counts). Then Ivan Vanko happens, followed by Justin Hammer (who Clint came _very_ close to punching just on principle) and War Machine, which lead to his big reveal as Hawkeye to Toni’s driver Happy Hogan.

To be perfectly honest, Clint expected his ass to be handed to him on a silver platter by Iron Man (*cough cough* _Toni_ _Stark_ *cough cough*). What he doesn’t expect is to be dragged into Toni’s lab and locked in with the genius herself. Its a few days after Vanko, and Clint needs to get back to D.C. to tell Fury that Toni _is_ necessary for the Avengers Initiative, just as important as Iron Man is (because what Clint understands that Fury doesn’t is that Natasha Stark and Iron Man are _the same person_ ). Toni has her hands on her hips, a single eyebrow raised at him, daring him to interrupt her before she’s even started. Clint, being the semi-smart person that he is, keeps his mouth shut, Though what she says next surprises him: “You need to tell him.”

Clint blinks in shock. “Tell who what?”

Toni rolls her eyes. “Hold on.” She reaches up and grabs his earpiece, bringing it just a hair's breath from her lips. “I need to borrow Boytoy for a minute, _Phil_. JARVIS will give you a video feed so you don’t send in the cavalry after him. But no audio. J?”

“Video uplink sent to Agent Coulson, ma'am,” JARVIS says.

“Thanks, J,” Toni replies before disabling the earpiece, pocketing the small device. She turns back to Clint, who’s now a tad more nervous since he has a hunch what the genius is talking about. “Agent Coulson.” And yep, worst fears confirmed. “You need to tell him how you feel.” Clint tries to brush this off, but Toni holds a hand up to stop his protests. “Look, I may not be an expert when it comes to my own emotions, but everyone else? I can read like a book, including you Agent Barton.”

He snorts after she finishes. “Oh, yeah? Then tell me, _Dr_. _Stark,_ how does Phil feel about me?”

Toni doesn’t even miss a beat. “He’s loyal to you, protective, willing to do anything to make you happy, even if it risks his own. He’s in love with you, Clint, has been for as long as you’ve been with him.” What she says astonishes Clint, and it must show because the billionaire's face softens. Toni moves forward to hug him, and he allows her. He hadn’t been hugged in forever (Nat really wasn’t a hugger and he was too afraid of losing it if he tried with Phil). They hug for a few minutes before she lets go. Toni’s hands move to cup Clint’s face, the action intimate.”Tell him,” she mumbles before letting go, turning around to leave. She stops, though, saying over her shoulder, “Stay as long as you like. Dummy’ll keep you company until ya do. Just don’t piss him off; I don’t need to clean your blood off the floor.” With that lovely thought put into his brain, she exits her lab, leaving Clint alone with himself (and Dummy), multiple thoughts circling his head. One thought stood out against the rest: _What do I do?_

Clint’s thirty-two when his back meets the wall (hard) as Phil kisses him ( _harder_ ). They break apart a moment later, both of them breathing hard. “Do not,” Phil says forcefully, “ _ever_ say that about yourself again, Clint. Anyone would be _lucky_ to have you... especially me.”

All the breath leaves Clint in a rush. “Just for the record,” he says, “I would be lucky to have you too.”

Phil smiles slightly. “Then let me. Let _yourself_ have this.”

He’s scared. Scared to lose everything all over again. But... now that he knows, he needs to protect Phil from his fate. “Yes,” Clint finds himself saying, physically shaking under the force of his fear.

Phil holds him as he breaks, pressing small kisses to his face, the tender gesture nearly splintering Clint’s already fragile heart. “Trust me, Clint. Give us a chance. Please.”

His head nods in agreement. the only word escaping his lips is “yes”.

Clint is thirty-six years old, and happier than he’s been in a long time. He and Phil just celebrated their four-year anniversary when they’re called back to SHIELD HQ. Something went wrong with Phase 2 (which he knows is serious since even _Phil_ doesn’t know what Phase 2 is) and Erik Selvig, so they are each assigned to a different task: Phil clears out the base while Clint watches over Selvig. He’s perched up high in the rafters, comfortable with the heights. Everything’s fine until the Tesseract opens a portal, then _he_ arrives. Clint recognizes him from the description on the demigod brother’s file: Loki, god of mischief.

Loki is a formidable enemy, especially with his staff doing a crapton of damage. He tries to shoot the rat bastard, but nothing seems to affect him, and Clint is forced to move out of the way as Loki shoots off some kind of blue energy blast. The ensuing explosion pushes him back to the far wall. As he tries to get up, Clint is attacked by Loki. He spins around to face his opponent head-on, but Loki’s strength exceeds his own, and his arm is caught by the god. He tries to struggle, but he sees its in vain. Loki stares at him curiously. “You have heart,” he says, sounding intrigued. He touches the spear to Clint’s chest, and Clint feels something corrupt move to take him over. As Clint is shut out to make room for this _thing_ , all he can think about is Phil, and hope he can stop this lunatic.

**Author's Note:**

> моя маленькая ястреб - my little hawk


End file.
